


Look For The Hole

by coggs



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rugby, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coggs/pseuds/coggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamal's first week on the team he heard a debate on jockstrap brands and learned the origins of Gun Oil lube and about Bad Dragon. Andy Shaw started every one of those conversations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look For The Hole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinsense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinsense/gifts).



Jamal got recruited because he started taking his ladder company's game of touch football too seriously. "You should join my rugby team," Mark had said, as Jamal pulled him to his feet after a particularly aggressive play. "And then you can stop knocking me down."

The league, like Mark, is gay. The Pegasus are more like 75/25 gay to straight, so Jamal stands out as the black guy rather than the straight guy. They're solidly mediocre, but Jamal has always liked teams, groups coming together for a purpose. Plus, his probie hours haven't exactly made it easy for him to make friends in a new city. 

Andy is the only other new guy on the team, one of the actual gay guys, an inside center and absolute shit. He loves to get ground into the dirt, pops up after every scrum beaming, scrubbing the mud and grass on his face, ready for more. 

He was still being hazed when Jamal joined late in the season, so Jamal's first impression was a small guy brushing shaving cream off a jockstrap. "Thank fuck," he yelled when Jamal was introduced. "Now they can give someone else crap." He then flipped off the locker room and put the jock on, shaving cream flecks and all. 

After practices and matches the team drinks over at a divey gay bar on Washington Ave. Attendance is uneven; Jamal's been skipping out early for the past month and a half to spend more time with a girl. 

"Isn't this your bedtime?" Andy says one night, two drinks in, eyeing the clock. 

"Nah," Jamal says. He thumbs at the wet label on his beer. "We broke up." 

Andy claps him on the back, runs his hand along Jamal's shoulder blades. "That sucks," he says sincerely, face tilting close to Jamal's. "Lemme buy you a drink." Jamal nods, and they get Lemon Drop shots, Andy spilling his as he downs it, sucking the sugar off his thumb.

He's loud as they walk back to the booth, clearly buzzed, stumbling as he slides into the booth. Andy settles back and then spreads his arms wide, hat brim pushed back, scoping out the scene. Jamal scoots in, careful not to knock over any jackets. 

"Looking for something?" Kyle asks, jostling Andy's elbow. Andy shifts around, moves so that his side is up against Jamal's. Kyle's straight, married with a kid. He's always goading Andy about guys, tries to set him up whenever they're at the bar. 

"Dunno," Andy says, glancing around, talking over the rim of his beer. Kyle leans forward, eager, and Andy smirks. "Just really feel like sucking a cock, you know?" 

Kyle chokes on his beer and then starts coughing, sputtering as Miles hits him on the back. Jamal's eyes widen, and he tries to cover his mouth dropping open by sipping his beer, but he doesn't quite succeed. Mark notices and shakes his head. Andy doesn't see because he's laughing at Kyle, delighted, falling against Jamal's chest as he does it. There's a bruise forming on Andy's cheek and his nose is wrinkled. _He looks cute like that_ , Jamal thinks. 

"But seriously," Andy says, once Kyle has stopped, batting his half-drunk beer between his hands. "You ever just – ?"

"No," Kyle says, too fast, making a face. "That's for," he waves a hand in the air, a bad limp wrist. "Your types." Devon, barely listening to the conversation, groans and throws a wadded napkin at him. 

Andy leans forward. "Yeah, but, they're so," he struggles with a word, waves a hand instead. "It's fucking hot," he finally says. "Some guy pushing hard into your mouth, just fucking taking, just so into it.” 

Jamal has a mental flash on Andy on his knees, hands behind his back, choking on someone's dick, spit collecting on the corners of his mouth. He wipes his hands on his pants, shifts in his seat until there's some space between him and Andy's thighs, accidentally bumping into Mark, who frowns. 

"And the taste," Andy goes on, purposefully ignoring the way Kyle is bright red. "They taste like they smell, sometimes, musty and sweaty and it's," he closes his eyes, gnaws on his lip. "Fuck, and you can pull off and every guy'll follow your mouth, desperate for it."

"Christ," Jamal mutters. His hands curl around his drink, stomach too warm and too tight. 

Mark shoots daggers at him. "Seriously?" Mark whispers, and it's loud enough that Andy turns and wrinkles his forehead at them before he leans over the table to talk to Kyle. 

"We're in public," Jamal says, shifting again and Mark rolls his eyes. "I'm not – " he starts but he's interrupted by Andy, who yells, "Kyle, jizz, you don't even know, and when you can feel someone shoot," and makes a gesture in the air. Jamal winces, throat tight. Mark frowns deeper.

"If you have a problem," Mark says, low and dangerous, and Jamal can't think about this lecture now not with Andy pressed up against him, talking about how it feels to have a mouthful of come. He hops up instead, finishing what's left in his bottle, Andy toppling back into the space Jamal was filling. 

"I think I'm going to head out," Jamal says, his voice carrying. He grabs for his bag and nudges Mark's legs out of the way, saluting with his free hand. "See y'all later." 

There's a chorus of "byes" from everyone except Mark, who still looks pissed, and Andy, who's looking down at his phone. "Fuck," he says, and stands up, throws some crumpled bills on the table. "I gotta go too, I have to let my roommate in when he gets off shift."

He vaults out of the booth, turning to grab his bag. He stops to look at Kyle before pounding a fist on his own chest twice. "I'm telling you, man. _Cock_." 

Kyle snorts into his can. "Get the fuck outta here already."

Jamal doesn't think about how much taller, bigger than Andy he is until he's standing next to him, and then it's inescapable. Andy's not weak, but he looks slight as he holds the door open for Jamal, making an expansive sweep with his hand. "After you," he says and all Jamal can think is how easily he could pin Andy, how the muscles in Andy's arm would strain against the hold. He lightly swats at Andy instead, careful to only make contact with his shirt. 

Andy's being unusually quiet on the walk to the car, walking close to Jamal, arm swinging so the backs of their hands brush. There's just the sound of the highway rumbling in the background, the clink of Jamal's keys as he spins them around his finger. He feels disoriented, full of a tension he doesn't want to name. Andy glances at him and looks away, fast, fingers touching Jamal's thigh, and it grows. 

Jamal finally breaks the silence when they're nearly to his car. "I wasn't uncomfortable," he says. The words sound too loud. "Obviously you can talk about blowjobs, it's not like—Mark was being weird. I don't—it doesn't bug me."

The right corner of Andy's mouth turns up in a smile, pulling at a scar on his lip. He steps in closer, gives a friendly knock to Jamal's shoulder with his own. "I know,” he says, biting and twisting his lip in his teeth, walking Jamal forward until he's next to the car.

Jamal feels like a giant now, Andy pressed in tight enough that Jamal can feel his body heat. The street lamp is making a buzzing noise. Andy is smiling, so open that instead of pushing him away with a laugh Jamal steps back, lets his back hit the car, lets Andy get closer.

"I thought maybe – " Andy's in his space now. He looks the way he does during a scrimmage, when Jamal's flattened him onto the ground, the way he does before he ditches the team to "dance" with someone. He curls his hand around Jamal's bicep, fingers slipping under the sleeve of Jamal's shirt. Jamal doesn't stop him and Andy's hips shift forward, rubbing his dick against Jamal's thigh. 

"You could help me out," Andy says. His gaze drops down and Jamal's dick jerks, right on the meat of Andy's leg. 

"I," Jamal says, trying to speak over the rapid pulse of his own heartbeat. "Andy," he starts again, but it's raspy, half a sound. 

"It doesn't mean anything at all," Andy says, smooth, confident, hand stroking Jamal's underarm. He's gentle, asking, and Jamal leans his head back, opens his stance in response. Andy smirks, trails his hand down until he's cupping Jamal through his pants.

Jamal screws his eyes shuts and pushes into Andy's hand, giving a sharp inhale at the pressure. Andy laughs and leans in, breathes hot on Jamal's neck. 

"What?" Jamal starts, opening one eye in time to watch Andy slide down to his knees. 

"I'll be really good," Andy says, popping the button on Jamal's jeans and pulling the zipper down, gazing up from under his lashes and then wetting his lips. Jamal's hips jerk forward, his feet scramble on the gravel. Andy noses against his balls, sucking on one before licking a line up the underside of his dick. 

Andy sucks on the head, moves his hands around and cups Jamal's ass. Jamal tenses. "Nothing with my," He swallows. Andy tongues the head of his dick. "Not my ass, ok?" 

Andy pulls off, and snorts once against his thigh. He puts his hand up. "I wouldn't," he says. "Scout's honor." 

Jamal nods and closes his eyes again, relaxes against the door. Andy takes him back in, sucks on his head, sloppy and enthusiastic, spit everywhere. Jamal starts circling his hips, dick occasionally catching on the inside of Andy's cheek, pressing wetly against it.

"You should," Andy says and then grabs Jamal's hands and puts them on his head. Jamal starts, opens his eyes and adjusts his fingers, clenching them in Andy's short hair. Andy shuffles on his knees, and Jamal sees the way his shorts are tented, the way his shaft is pushing against the fabric. 

Andy leans forward, the head of Jamal's cock just brushing against his lips as he speaks, his eyes sinking low and shoulders relaxed. "Go for it."

Jamal thrusts in halfway, cautious, and then pulls out slow. Andy's cheeks hollow, mouth forming a desperate circle as he tries to keep Jamal's dick in his mouth. His top lip drags along Jamal's dick, red and wet.

Jamal thrusts in again, harder, and this time Andy makes a choking sound when his dick hits the back of his throat. Jamal tried to push Andy's head back, worried, but Andy resists. He takes a deep breath through his nose, then pushed forward again, and Jamal's dick just barely slips into his throat.

Jamal loses it then, thrusting fast and uncaring, gripping Andy's hair tight. He closes his eyes again, can't look at the way Andy's taking him. Jamal can feel Andy's throat working, the soft surface of his tongue trying to curl around his dick. He thrusts harder and Andy meets him every time, lips brushing against Jamal's pubes. 

"I'm gonna," Jamal says, mostly a groan, feeling his balls drawing up. He tries to pull out, but Andy reaches backs and clamps Jamal's hands down. 

Jamal opens his eyes and Andy—the corner of his lip looks split, sore, his eyes red, wetness spilling down his left cheek, tear tracks on both sides. His expression is wild, determined, and that's what sets Jamal over the edge, fingernails digging into the back of Andy's head, holding him there as Jamal's stomach contracts and he comes, gasping. 

Andy keeps sucking on his dick while Jamal catches his breath, dick softening in Andy's mouth. There's a noise when Jamal finally pulls out, a string of come going from Andy's tongue to his softening dick, another line trailing down Andy's chin. 

Jamal sags back against the car, lets it hold his weight. He makes a weak move to get his dick back in his pants and Andy laughs.

"Let me clean you up first," he says. He gently sucks at loose foreskin, licks Jamal's dick all over, open mouthed, come so white on his tongue. 

When Andy stands up, his dick is straining against his shorts, a wet spot at his tip. He stares as Andy shakes his shoulders out, like he's not a minute away from shooting his load. 

"But - " Jamal says, straightening up against the car, finally buttoning his pants up. Andy cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Jamal looks at Andy's shoulder and shrugs. "I didn't kiss you."

Andy smiles, sarcastic, flutters his eyelashes. "Do you want to kiss me? You think I'm pretty?"

Jamal's stomach lurches and he feels grimy. It's—Andy's eyes are red and he hasn't wiped the come off his face except what's fallen on the pavement, hasn't made a move to do anything for himself. It feels wrong, leaving him with nothing, not when he… he – 

"I might think you're pretty," Jamal says, finally looking right at Andy, whose face stops before he shakes his head slightly. He reaches a hand up, slow, wraps it around Jamal's neck. He steps closer, thumb rubbing the space behind Jamal's ear.

Jamal tilts his head without thinking about it, lips brushing as Andy huffs out a "yeah" before pulling Jamal in.

Andy's hands are firm on Jamal's neck, his hip. Jamal's just pressing his lips, light, but Andy's pushing, biting at Jamal's lip, dipping his tongue. He's all passion, mouthful of come and beer, lips tasting like Carmex, keeping Jamal where he wants him. Jamal makes himself stop thinking about it, bites back, opens his mouth wide and makes it count. 

It's not fast, like Jamal thought it'd be, but it's not long either. Andy grins when it's over, dopey. Jamal grins back, even though it feel like his face is buzzing. Andy squeezes his shoulder.

"Night Jamal," he says, firm, swiping his thumb along Jamal's collarbone before dropping his hand. 

Jamal's eyes snaps up and he nods, short and fast. "Yeah, night," he mumbles it, distracted by looking down at Andy's dick. 

Andy catches his eye and laughs, stepping back towards his own car. "I got it," he says, waving Jamal off as he searches for his keys with his other hand. He turns and Jamal watches him go, cicadas chirping, a train horn in the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to sinsensory who inspired this and then edited it. I can be found on [Tumblr](http://thecoggs.tumblr.com/), investing too much energy in OMCs.


End file.
